


All Hallow's Eve

by mrua7



Series: Strange, scary stories and the Man from U.N.C.L.E. [51]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Folklore, Gen, Halloween, Rain, Spies & Secret Agents, Supernatural Elements, Thunder and Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 18:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12563848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: Illya is returning from a failed mission when he encounters something strange, but...pleasant.





	All Hallow's Eve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JantoJones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/gifts).



  


It was the proverbial dark and stormy night; the winds were wreaking havoc on the trees, torrential rains were falling and periodically there was a loud clap of thunder as lightning lit up the cloud filled skies.

Illya Kuryakin was driving alone in his car, a Chevy Impala from the New York motor pool, and was glad to have such a sturdy car; still it was being buffeted by the wind.

He should have been back at headquarters already, but the weather and poor driving conditions were slowing him down. Not that he was in any sort of rush to get back.The details of his failed assignment were dancing round in his head and distracting him.

He’d been tasked with blowing up yet another THRUSH satrapy located on the outskirts of Albany. He set his charges, but decided to wait until after dark to detonate the explosives when the place had shut down for the night.

Though had no reservations about killing enemy agents when required, blowing up a building of unsuspecting scientists who might not know they were working for THRUSH just didn’t seem right to him.

Granted, letting them live would allow them to set up shop later on down the road, but they’d at least have to start from scratch again. He was told not to infiltrate the warehouse, but just to destroy the facility and its contents. He did not take human beings to be part of the contents.

When he returned to finish the job, he saw the door to the building wide open, and all the lights had been left on.  When he investigated, he discovered the place had been emptied; papers were strew everywhere, broken lab equipment lay scattered on the floor, indicating the occupants had made a hasty retreat.

He found a few of his explosive devices laying on a lab table, and that painted a clear enough picture...his little plot had been discovered. Alexander Waverly would not be pleased and Illya cringed at the dressing down he would receive, and who knew what else the Old Man might deal out as punishment, depending upon his mood. He could at times be like a fatherly figure to his agents, then again fathers could also punish their children, so to speak.

The man wasn’t vindictive, but at times his temper and wrath would rear their ugly heads. Illya hoped this wouldn’t be one of those times...

A particularly loud crack of thunder split the air and the simultaneous bright flash of lightning exploded into sparks as it hit a tree. A large branch flew down, straight at the moving vehicle, and Illya swerved to miss it. The car rocked and careened down into a ditch.

Kuryakin was momentarily shaken before he began to profusely curse in Russian, while slamming his fist on the dashboard.  He gave the car some gas; the engine roared, but didn’t budge an inch. He was stuck, no doubt about that.

Pulling his communicator, he opened it with a practiced hand.

“Open Channel D- Kuryakin.”  There was nothing but static, accented by a loud crackling every time there was a flash of lightning. The storm was obviously affecting the signal.

There was another bright flash of light, and not far off he spotted a house.Illya gathered his trench coat, holding it over his head as he exited the car and dashed across the street.  He hoped the owners would let him use their telephone.

 

 

He leapt over the three steps leading up to the porch, and shaking out his coat he draped it over his arm before using the brass door knocker.  He could see candle light within, and assumed they must have lost power due to the storm.

After waiting a few minutes, he knocked again.

Slowly the door opened with a creak,  and he was greeted by an old woman dressed in a long rust colored dress and wearing a **black shawl.** Time had ravaged her face as she was quite wrinkled, and her grey hair was long and unkempt.

“Yes?”

“I beg your pardon Madam, but my car went off the road and is stuck in a ditch, might I use your telephone to call for help?”

“Don’t have a telephone, but you’re welcome to come inside and wait out the storm dear.”

“Thank you, that would be most appreciated, “ he stepped inside, pausing for her to close the door after him.

“Let me introduce myself, my name is Illya Kuryakin.”

“Oh, you’re a Russian.”

“Is that a problem Madam? If so, I can leave.”

“Not not a problem at all, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a Russian...here. Please, go sit by the fire,” she pointed to it,”and I’ll bring you a cup of my special tea. I know how your people like tea.”

“Oh you are familiar with Russian customs?” Illya said, but the woman had already disappeared down the hall.

After hanging his coat on a coat rack he found a comfy chair by the fire, a small table set beside it. The room had very little in the way of furnishings, there was nothing on the walls, no paintings, photographs.  The book shelves were empty, and he found that odd for a woman’s home. Then again, he did not know her financial situation. She was quite old, and perhaps she’d sold off her belongings for whatever reason.  
  
An orange cat suddenly appeared, sitting behind one of the candles, the light cast a tall shadow behind it.

“Here we are,” the woman's voice startled him as he hadn’t heard her enter the room.

She handed him a bone china cup and saucer, and he took a quick sip. “Just right, thank you.”

“Yes it’s just the way you like it. I must say you have such beautiful blond hair, and your blue eyes are quite inviting.”  
  
“How would she know how he liked his tea?” He asked himself. Illya suddenly felt odd, and his vision began to blur. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t as his eyes drifted closed.

When those eyes opened, there was a beautiful dark haired woman leaning over him, and as he raised his head, he realized he was laying naked in a luxurious bed. She too was naked.

He felt an uncontrollable urge to make love to her, and took her in his arms, kissing her. After the moaning and thrusting were over, she left the bed, apparently sated. Illya closed his eyes, feeling exhausted but satisfied.

When he opened them again he was fully clothed, lying prone in the grass. It was daylight and the sun was shining. Bewildered, he lifted himself to his elbows and spotted the Impala parked on the nearby road, and definitely not in a ditch.

Illya slowly rose, turning in circles as he looked for the house; there was nothing there except the remnants of an aged foundation.

Quickly checking himself for any sort of injury, he found he was fine except for a headache. Could he have fallen and knocked himself out? It had all been so vivid. To top it off, he was as dry as a bone; with that sort of downpour he should have been soaked if he had fallen and knocked himself out.  And how the devil was the car no longer in the ditch?

Pulling his communicator, he found he had a signal and immediately contacted headquarters.

Waverly was not in a good mood given Kuryakin had seemingly disappeared for the last twelve hours, and Illya had no reasonable explanation other than to say that he had car trouble during the storm, and his communicator had been out.

Upon his return to headquarters and after receiving the expected dressing down from the Old Man, Illya began his voracious research, seeking out any folklore and legends in the vicinity of Selkirk, New York, where he determined he’d been.

He finally found it, the legend of the Selkirk Witch who appeared once a year on All Hallow’s Eve; she supposedly lures an unsuspecting man into her house and has her way with him.

Though not a believer in such things, Kuryakin could’t help but remember how real it all was...especially the sex.

He decided it best to keep this one to himself, and not tell Napoleon. His partner would only torment him into that ‘now do you believe’ discussion.

Still, maybe now he did believe...just a little.


End file.
